Gunned Down
by DAnNSfreak
Summary: Why is it that Danny being shot makes such an interesting story to write and read about? I am no exception.
1. Prologue

_Disclamer: _Not mine, never have been never will be.

This storyline just crawled in my head and refused to leave. So I just had to write it out. I really enjoyed writing this, and I hope you will enjoy reading it!__

___Prologue_

___Tuesday, 7.15 am_

Danny Messer had a funny feeling. Not the physical discomfort he was feeling from being currently squashed like a sardine among many more New Yorkers in the subway train on his way to work. It was a gut feeling. He got out of bed that morning under the impression that something out of the ordinary was going to happen today. Whether good or bad, he didn't know, but he couldn't seem to shake of the feeling that something was going to happen.

He didn't take it seriously. He was Danny Messer, plain and simple. He wasn't Spiderman, with a spider-sense that tingled. He wasn't a fortune teller (a fleeting image of those all time novelty 'Madam Zorras' from carnivals came to mind). He wasn't a Seer from all those fantasy stories. Danny felt it was nothing important so he shoved it to the back of his mind. He had other things to worry about (like the short guy with a really nasty bout' of flu who was practically welded to Danny right now and firing sneezes like a cannon in his direction).

Thankfully, his stop came. Danny expertly navigated his way past the throng of standing people and got out of the train. Feeling like he could breathe normally again for the first time in a long while, he set off towards the building where the crime lab was located, only a couple of blocks down from the subway.

The lobby was bustling with activity. Somewhere along his way towards the elevator, Danny accidentally bumped against a guy who was reading the floor directory. Quickly, Danny turned and said, "Sorry."

The guy looked to be well into his 50's, with short salt and pepper hair (mostly salt) and he wore a dark jacket and a serious expression. He ignored Danny and continued scanning the floor directory.

Far used to this kind of attitude from most strangers, Danny entered the elevator with yet another throng of people and pushed the floor button with the number 35 printed on it.

It was time for work.

* * *

7.37 am

Howard Jones turned away from the floor directory. He had found exactly what he was looking for. Now all he had to do was to wait for the perfect time.

Now was not the perfect time.

He walked out of the building. Several people brushed lightly past him. They all had a reason to be at this very place, at this very time. So did he. He believed everything in this world happens for a reason. He believed everything that people do is done for a reason.

As he entered the cool early autumn air outside, he shoved his hand into his pocket. That hand gripped a photo in his pocket tightly. It was a photo Howard Jones took by himself. The man in the photo had no idea he had been photographed.

However, Howard didn't really need the photo anymore. He had the face memorized. The image was imprinted in his head.

The face was a handsome young face. He had dirty-blond, almost brown hair, cut close and neat. His eyes behind his silver half-framed glasses were bright blue and he had a goatee that was not very obvious but at the same time, gave him an attractive rugged look.

He had stared at the face on paper for weeks but just a moment ago, Howard saw the face in real life. Howard was content, satisfied. He knew when he'll see that face again and he knew what will happen when he does.

Howard Jones believed in one thing above everything else he believed it.

Howard Jones believed in justice.

TBC


	2. Chapter 1

_Disclaimer: _Not mine, never have been, never will be._  
_

_Chapter One_

_7.48 am_

The break room was deserted when Danny entered it. This was not unexpected as everyone had things to do. Stella, Hawkes and Lindsay were tied up with a triple homicide in Queens while Mac had a court appearance later that morning. Danny himself was working solo on a male DOA. Danny had spent the better part of yesterday processing the back alley crime scene. This morning, he had already planned to analyze and log in the remainder of the evidence he collected. With luck, he could wrap the case by tomorrow.

But first, a hot cup of coffee to get his brain in working order.

Coffee mug in hand, Danny caught sight of a copy of the day's New York Times, baseball scores lying face up on the table. He glanced at his watch and decided that he had enough time to check how the Mets fared against the White Sox yesterday.

He sat down quickly and began reading.

* * *

_10.15 am_

Howard Jones entered the elevator and pressed the button for the 35th floor. There were three other people who came in with him. None of them gave him so much as a second look. None of them will remember who he was or what he looked like.

One side of his jacket was heavier than the other. He felt a bit uncomfortable thanks to the uneven weight. His heart began thumping faster as the elevator ascended. But he knew that was just the nerves. His face remained calm and steady. He had planned his every move. He knew what to do and he had no fear of messing up. He is a careful and patient man. These two qualities will work in his favour.

Howard Jones knew everything will go according to plan.

The elevator door opened at the 35th floor. He exited the elevator into the NYPD crime lab. A bored looking receptionist stood behind a circular desk, scribbling phone messages for the officers that weren't in.

The floor was filled with activity. There were all kinds of people. Police officers in uniforms, police officers out of uniforms, lab technicians in lab coats with files in their hands, detectives with their badges attached to their belts and jacket pockets…

Nobody noticed Howard. Nobody cared.

Howard stepped towards the receptionist's desk. There was another man standing there, head bent low, writing something into an NYPD case file. The man looked to be in his mid-40s. He was dressed in dark pants, jacket and tie. His short brown hair was combed neatly. He had a kind face, one that gave off the impression of great depth and wisdom.

Howard noted the police badge on his belt, the small golden pin marked 'D' on his jacket and the gun in its holster on his waist. The man did not look up. He was too immersed in the file in front of him.

Howard turned to the receptionist and smiled, "Excuse me…"

* * *

_10.16 am_

Lindsay Monroe rounded the corner and nearly bumped into Stella Bonasera and Sheldon Hawkes.

Once she recognized their faces, she said, "There you are!"

Stella nodded, "We've been looking for you too. We got news."

Lindsay said, "I found something too." She was tired from being up the whole night, searching and matching fingerprints from the crime scene. But it all paid off as she got several matches that could really help the case.

"You first," said Hawkes as the three of them started walking down the corridor, destination unknown.

Lindsay started on her narrative about whose prints she found at the crime scene. When she finished, Stella jumped in about what Hammerback managed to find from the autopsies.

They were headed towards the front desk. Lindsay, being focused on Stella's words, barely registered Danny talking to some strange man at the desk. No, wait, they were not talking… The man was reaching into his jacket pocket for something.

When Lindsay saw what it was, she forgot Stella's voice entirely. Instead, she screamed Danny's name.

* * *

_10.16 am_

Danny was in the middle of running a piece of trace substance through the GC/Mass Spec. when his pager beeped.

Mildly irritated, Danny checked the message, "Det. Messer. Someone to see you at the front desk. Says it's urgent."

Danny frowned. 'Couldn't it wait?'

He got up anyway and headed over to the front desk, not bothering to take off his lab coat. Whoever it was, he hoped it will be quick.

When Danny got to the front desk, he saw Mac standing there, flipping through a file. "Hey, Mac," he greeted.

Mac nodded and said, "How's your case coming along?"

Danny shrugged, "Goin' fine. I'll fill you in on the details later."

Mac nodded again and lowered his eyes back to the file.

Danny went over to the receptionist, "Someone lookin' for me?"

Before she could answer, a male voice behind him said, "Yeah. Me."

Danny turned around. He saw an older man with graying hair reach into his jacket pocket. Danny's eyes widened as the man withdrew a gun.

"What the-?" Danny didn't get to finish the sentence.

He heard a loud bang from the gun and felt a burning hot pain searing through his side.

Next thing he knew, his legs gave way and Danny fell onto the cold hard floor of the crime lab. Several people screamed. He heard his name being called out.

His hand automatically went to his wound. The pain was unbearable. When he looked at his hand, he saw it covered completely with blood. _His blood…_

'_I've been shot…' _Danny thought numbly to himself, _'I'm gonna die…'_

Suddenly, the man who shot him came into view, the revolver still in his hand, still aimed at Danny. He was smiling warmly, like a proud father to a son.

"An eye for an eye, Messer," he said.

Then, he fired again.

Danny felt like his neck had been set on fire.

The man's face disappeared and was replaced by Stella, Hawkes and Lindsay. They were yelling his name. "Danny!!"

They were so near, yet their voices were so far away.

Their faces became blurry. The voices shouting and screaming all around him started to sound like echoes.

The brightness from the florescent lights was dimming. Soon Danny will be surrounded by darkness.

It occurred to Danny that it might never become bright again…

_Danny!_

_Danny!_

* * *

_10.17 am_

Mac Taylor jumped when he heard the first gun shot. He quickly turned around, just in time to see Danny fall to the ground, the side the lab coat he was wearing had a big red blotch on it.

_No!_

Mac immediately focused on the man holding the gun. His experienced detective mind automatically memorized the shooter's features, everything from his clothes to his wrinkled face and grey hair.

Before he could do anything, the man said something to Danny that Mac could not hear. Then, he shot Danny again, at the neck area, just above the collar bone.

Mac's hand quickly pulled out his gun from the holster and aimed it at the man.

The shooter waved the gun around, finger placed right on the trigger, "Nobody move!"

Mac dare not shoot. The room was full of people. Mac couldn't risk getting another person shot.

The shooter backed away slowly to the elevator and pressed the down button. He was in luck, the door opened immediately. He stepped in.

Mac glanced at Danny, motionless on the floor. Something in his head clicked into place and Mac turned towards the shooter in the elevator. He was going to kill him. For Danny.

The man seemed to be anticipating what Mac planned to do. "Your boy needs help, detective…" he smiled serenely, "Take your pick… me, or him…"

Mac turned to look at Danny. He could see his chest rising and falling. Relief washed over Mac.

Danny was still alive. But for how much longer?

Hawkes, Stella and Lindsay had already rushed over to Danny. Hawkes started shouting instructions as he tried to stop the bleeding. Mac knew he had to go and help.

He turned back towards the shooter, who was actually holding the elevator door open, waiting for Mac's decision.

Mac glared at the shooter and said with so much anger and determination, that he had to fight to keep his voice steady, "I'll find you."

The man laughed and said, "I thought so…"

As Mac watched the elevator door close, he vowed to himself and to Danny, "_I'll find him…"_

TBC


	3. Chapter 2

Thanks for all the reviews everyone! They mean so much to me. For me, there is nothing more satisfying than writing a story and getting good response on it. Thanks so much, you all made my day!

And thanks to the reviews, I got that extra 'omph!' to quickly write and submit this new chapter as soon as I could.

_Chapter Two_

_10.17 am_

Sheldon Hawkes pulled off the jacket he was wearing, tore it ferociously into two and pressed one to Danny's first wound and the other to his neck, where the majority of the blood was flowing from.

Hawkes had an educated guess that the bullet had hit a jugular vein. If that was so, Danny was loosing a lot of blood, and fast.

"What now, Hawkes?" Lindsay asked desperately, her eyes brimming with tears.

Hawkes' eyes tore away from Danny's wounds and looked straight at Lindsay and Stella. They were expecting instructions from him. Hawkes could see the logic behind that… he was a doctor after all.

But truth be told, Hawkes was at lost about what to do as well.

He felt a stab of illogical anger directed towards the girls. How could they be depending on him to save Danny? Do they have any idea how many people he had already lost on the emergency room table years and years ago? Were they expecting him to pull off a medical miracle, stitch here and there and Danny will get up all perfectly well again, like nothing happened?

Hawkes felt dizzy. There was a rush of images running through his head.

_The little girl that got hit by a car… she died on the operating table. She was the first person to die in Hawkes' care._

_The young woman who got stabbed… Hawkes held her hand as she told him to tell her parents she loved them…_

_The plastic surgeon that got spattered in lye... Hawkes couldn't get him to hold on long enough to tell them his killer's name…_

Hawkes stared back at Danny's very pale face. Cold sweat drenched his forehead, dripping past his glasses, down his face. His hands were shaking. Hawkes could only imagine the pain Danny was feeling right now.

Sheldon Hawkes couldn't sleep for nights on end after all those innocent people died in his care. They were complete strangers. What would happen if he lost Danny, his friend?

For a moment, he just kneeled there… unsure of his next move.

Then, Mac appeared. His face set… determined.

Hawkes had no idea what had gone on between the shooter and Mac just now. But he reassured himself that Mac will find the man who shot Danny and made sure he paid for what he'd done. Mac will take care of this… he's never failed yet.

Then it occurred to Hawkes that he was depending on Mac the same way his colleagues were depending on him.

Was this the meaning of trust? Hawkes trusted Mac to always be there for them, to always know what to do. Now the others placed their trust in Hawkes to keep Danny alive until help arrives.

Mac never shied away from his duties no matter what happened. Why should he, Hawkes, be any different? He was going to try his hardest to help his friend.

"Mac, I need you to keep steady pressure on his neck wound. We need to stop the blood flow…" Hawkes was already pressing hard on Danny's abdominal wound.

"Hang in there, Danny… hang in there…" Hawkes kept muttering.

He wasn't sure if Danny could hear him anymore.

* * *

_10.25 am_

A siren was blaring very loudly. It was ten times worse than Danny's alarm clock.

Danny never felt more disorientated. Where was he? What's going on?

He could feel his back vibrating mildly. He was in a moving vehicle. The siren wailed on and on.

He opened his eyes slowly. His surroundings were quite bright. Everything was blurry and fogged. His glasses… where were they?

He tried to lift his arm but it felt like lead. He couldn't move. His neck was throbbing madly. So was his stomach. Somebody touched his neck and a searing pain shot through his head. Danny could have screamed at the idiot but he couldn't talk. All he could do was flinch.

There were a couple of male voices around him. He never heard them before.

"Heart rate dropping…"

"Hurry up, Stan… he's looking worse…"

Danny felt the vehicle pick up speed. Someone gripped his left arm and pierced something sharp into it.

Great… more pain.

Danny saw the blurry shape of an IV bag swaying above him. Everything felt foreign… uncomfortable. He didn't know where he was, he didn't know where he was going.

For the first time in ages, Danny felt scared.

Then, Danny felt a warm hand hold his right hand, gripping it tightly. He heard a voice that he recognized, "Danny… Danny… can you hear me?"

Danny could see the faint outline of the man's face. He had never felt so glad to hear Mac's voice.

Danny tried to say 'yes', but he couldn't muster the strength to. The bright lights were dimming again.

_No!_ Danny thought desperately. It can't get dark again… it just can't… Danny felt certain that if he closed his eyes now, they'll remain closed forever…

His whole body was in so much pain…

"Danny… can you hear me?" came Mac's voice again.

Danny clenched his right hand, hoping that Mac will feel it.

When Mac next spoke, there was relief in his voice, "Danny… don't worry… everything's gonna be okay…you'll make it through… you'll make it through just fine. Trust me."

Danny was still in a whole lot of pain, but Mac's voice was really reassuring and Danny felt better.

He was too tired. He closed his eyes. He wasn't so scared of the darkness anymore. Mac was there for him… and so was everybody else.

They'll be there waiting when it gets bright again.

_TBC_

The next chapter might take a little longer partly because I'm really busy with school stuff and also because I actually have no idea what's going to happen next. (so whether Danny will die or not, even I don't know...) But no worries! I'm gonna think about it every night before I fall asleep! Heheheeeee...


	4. Chapter 3

_Chapter Three_

_10.37am_

Even though Stella's eyes were glued on the article about diabetes on the hospital notice board, nothing about it registered in her mind. She felt numb… Barely an hour ago, she was in the morgue with Sid, talking about the autopsies of the three victims from Queens. Just another day… Funny how one's life could change in one hour.

The gun shots echoed in Stella's ears. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw Danny falling to the floor, his lab coat stained with blood. She saw it so many times, it seemed foreign to her. Did it really happen?

Five minutes ago, Danny was wheeled into the Emergency Room. Everything was really chaotic at that time. Paramedics, doctors and nurses were yelling instructions over each other's heads as they maneuvered the bed carrying Danny through the hospital corridors.

But all the noise disappeared the moment Danny was pushed into the ER. The din was replaced by a tension-filled silence instead.

Stella tore her eyes away from the article. The corridor was deserted except for her and her fellow colleagues. Mac had his back to her; he was talking quietly on his cell phone. Flack agitatedly paced back and forth, his usual confident demeanor was long gone. He looked like a guy totally at lost at what to do. Hawkes sat on one of the benches, staring at his open palms. Stella knew Hawkes was still seeing the blood that he had washed off… Danny's blood. Lindsay sat in the bench opposite. Every once in a while, she would cast a furtive glance at the door leading to the ER, willing someone to come out and tell them all that Danny will be alright. Stella caught her eye once and smiled softly. She wanted to reassure the younger woman that their friend will be okay. Lindsay merely nodded weakly and turned back to the door.

Stella sighed and settled down beside Lindsay on the bench.

_Danny… you have to pull through, ok? For us…_

This was going to be a long wait.

_11.30 am_

For the past hour, the five friends waited in the corridor. Very little words were exchanged between them. Only once or twice did Mac half-heartedly suggest they go home and get some rest. "I'll stay here and keep you all updated."

Stella had said with utmost determination, "We're all staying." Mac did not argue.

Everyone was just sitting there, immersed in their own thoughts. At long last, the door opened. They all stood up and practically ran to the doctor.

The doctor looked to be in his forties. His expression was unsmiling. He said slowly and gravely, "We managed to remove both bullets. The first wound wasn't too serious, it hit his rib and broke it, but that prevented the bullet from getting to his lungs. However, the second bullet hit his jugular vein. Naturally, Detective Messer lost a lot of blood… not enough oxygen is getting to his brain…"

Mac asked, "He's in a coma?"

The doctor nodded, "We have him on a ventilator. He might wake up later today, tomorrow, next week… or…"

His voice trailed away. They all knew what he was about to say… _never…_

Then he continued more confidently, "But we are hopeful. His vitals are stabilized, his wounds are all stitched up… there is a very good chance for a full recovery. We just have to wait for him to wake up."

He gave them all a small smile, "You may go and see him if you like… but not too long."

He walked away and Flack immediately said with a smile, "Well, that's great isn't it? Danny's gonna be just fine."

When nobody returned his enthusiasm, Flack said, "C'mon! Danny's one of strongest people we know. He'll be awake by tonight. You'll see…"

Stella cracked a smile and said, "Yeah… that's our Danny."

With that, they entered the room, walking as silently as possible. The room was cold and quiet. Only the sounds of the ventilator pumping air into Danny's lungs and the steady beeping of the heart monitor could be heard.

Stella felt like she was in a dream as she looked down at Danny. He seemed like a whole new person to Stella. His eyes were closed, his glasses were gone, his face had lost all colour, the tube from the ventilator was taped to his mouth and a white bandage covered his neck wound. He looked… weak. Stella never thought that word existed in Danny's dictionary.

Stella reached out her slightly shaky hand and placed it gently on Danny's cold forehead. "You'll be okay…" she whispered. She wondered if she was comforting him, or trying to convince herself.

On his other side, Lindsay held his hand tightly, tears fell from her eyes. His hand was cold as well. It was as if all the heat had left Danny's body, leaving him cold and lifeless.

For a while, the five of them merely stood there, staring at their fallen team member… their friend. They listened to the soft bursts of air from the ventilator and the slow 'beep, beeps' of the heart monitor. These sounds were the only proof that Danny was alive.

After that, Mac said silently, "Come on…"

They left the room and Mac was suddenly all business. "I have officers securing the crime scene. I'm going to get swing and night shift CSI's to process it…"

Lindsay and Hawkes said loudly at the same time, "No!"

Hawkes face was set in a determined glare as he said, "I want this…" Lindsay nodded her agreement.

Mac hesitated for a second, and then he said, "Alright. Lindsay and Hawkes, back to the scene… find us some answers."

Flack chimed in as Lindsay and Hawkes left the group, "I've got my guys interviewing everyone and anyone who might have seen something. I'll keep you guys posted."

When he left too, Mac turned to Stella, "I've contacted Danny's parents. One of us should stay here to keep an eye on Danny until they arrive. In case he wakes up… or the shooter comes back to try and finish the job."

He held up the small evidence bag holding the bullets. They were still stained with Danny's blood. "Get to the lab, process these… while you're at it, dig up Danny's past cases, see if they lead us anywhere."

Stella raised an eyebrow, "You're staying?"

Mac's eyes cast downwards, then towards the window where they could see Danny lying motionless on the bed. He then said quietly, "I was right there, Stella. The shooter walked right past me… Danny was right behind me when he got shot…"

Stella replied, "You're blaming yourself for what happened?"

"I know it's not rational. There was no way for me to know that old guy was going to shoot Danny. But I was there and I should have been able to do something… anything…"

"You can't help but feel responsible…" Stella stated.

Mac nodded, "I don't know why…"

Stella gave a whimsical smile, "It's because you're you, Mac."

Mac gave her a look. Stella shrugged and said, "You'll never forgive yourself if Danny died, right?"

After a moment, Mac said, "Yes."

Stella smiled and walked away from him, "Then you have nothing to worry about… By next week, the shooter will be in jail and Danny will be strutting around showing off his scars like a war hero…"

Mac chuckled. Stella wasn't fooling anyone. Mac knew she was just as worried about Danny as everyone else, if not more.

He went back into Danny's room and pulled up a chair. Slowly, he took Danny's cold hand in his warm one and held it tightly, "I'm sorry…"

_TBC_

_Sorry you guys had to wait so long curses exams. Hopefully the next chapter will be quicker... ;-D  
_


	5. Chapter 4

_Chapter Four_

_1.15 pm_

Stella caught up with Lindsay and Hawkes after getting their instructions from Mac. She insisted they all go for lunch first before heading back to work. It soon became clear however, that none of them had the slightest appetite for the egg salad sandwiches they ordered at the café.

They soon pulled up in front of the crime lab. A couple of squad cars were parked in front of the main entrance and so was a big spiffy looking Mercedes. Stella knew whose car this belonged to all too well. Chief Dwight Hillborne, Internal Affairs Bureau.

Stella pretty much expected him to get involved. A crime scene in a crime lab… it was the IAB's idea of a perfect day.

They entered into the lobby. Crime scene tape blocked the elevator where the shooter went up in while the other elevators were being used to siphon people away from the 35th floor.

Stella flashed her badge to the officer guarding the front of one elevator who immediately waved the three CSIs through. They were silent as the elevator began it's ascend.

A strange feeling came over Stella. She wondered what could have been going through the shooter's mind as he made this exact ascend four hours ago. Was he nervous? Calm? Angry? Or even insane? How could anyone have been able to walk into a building full of cops just to shoot one man?

The elevator door opened. Stella was looking at a place she knew so well, yet, everything was different about it. Lab technicians were stuck in their rooms, sitting around twiddling their thumbs waiting for detectives to come and ask them pointless questions where they will give pointless answers to.

Stella said to Lindsay and Hawkes, "I'm going to go run these bullets through IBIS, you guys gonna be okay with the crime scene?"

Hawkes nodded, "We got it covered."

Stella nodded back and headed for the lab. Interesting… now results could be obtained super fast since all the evidence was within a two mile radius of the machines that processed them.

"Detective Bonasera!" called out a deep voice.

Stella knew that voice. Hoping her face didn't look too annoyed, she turned around to face a tall stern looking African-American man, "Chief Hillborne…" she greeted.

"Where's Taylor?"

"At the hospital…" Stella replied curtly.

"Alright then… perhaps you can explain to me how in the world did a man walk right into the NYPD Crime Lab and shoot one of our detectives?"

Stella answered, "We're doing all we can to find out, sir."

Hillborne shifted impatiently and said, "The press is having a field day, Bonasera! People are going to question our ability to protect New York City since we can let someone come in and fire shots to their fancy!"

Stella wasn't the least bit surprised that Hillborne's first concern was his image rather than Danny's condition.

When she didn't say a word, Hillborne asked, "Do we have any idea who did the shooting?"

Stella said, "Many people saw his face, including Detective Taylor and I. I'm positive we will catch him soon enough."

Hillborne nodded and said, "Tell Detective Taylor that I want the shooter behind bars, Bonasera. And I also want the motive. Let me know when my men can talk to Messer. He should know something."

Stella said through slightly gritted teeth, "Detective Messer is in a coma, Hillborne. And I am sure he is not involved in this shooting in any negative way…"

"Messer was involved in the shooting of an undercover officer before, he was suspended from duty for a cigarette found at a crime scene with his DNA on it, and now this?" Hillborne raised his eyebrows, "Well, forgive me if I tend to be a little suspicious…"

"Just do your job." He muttered before strutting off.

_1.17 pm_

Hawkes got off his cell phone and turned to Lindsay, "That was Mac… no change in Danny's condition…"

Lindsay nodded, "You want the lift, or the crime scene?"

Hawkes said, "You take the lift…"

Lindsay nodded, looking almost relieved. Hawkes saw her cast a nervous glance at the middle of the crime scene. A big pool of thick blood lay there. Hawkes still found it hard to believe it was _all_ Danny's blood.

As minutes passed, it became increasingly obvious to Hawkes that he and Lindsay were wasting their time chasing an empty lead. The elevator was used by several hundred people a day while the lobby had a lot of foot traffic, making finding footprints and fingerprints essentially useless. Finding anything that belonged to the shooter will be like looking for a needle in several hay stacks.

A quick interview with the desk receptionist revealed that the shooter touched nothing while waiting for Danny.

After awhile, Flack came up to Hawkes and said, "How's it going?"

Hawkes noticed Flack's eyes were focused on the blood pool on the floor. "Not good… this is pretty much a dead end."

Flack's eyes were still fixed on Danny's blood as he said, "Yeah. Witness statements have nothing new to follow. Middle aged man, 50s to 60s, five foot nine, graying hair, dark clothes… Came to the front desk, asked for Danny, shot him once in the gut, and then in the neck when he was down…" Flack stopped talking, his eyes never leaving the blood pool.

"Flack!" Hawkes said loudly.

Flack jumped slightly and his eyes finally returned to Hawkes. "He'll be okay… you said so yourself…"

Flack sighed, his eyes downcast. Without another word, he walked away.

Hawkes decided to check on Lindsay. To his surprise, he saw Lindsay sitting on the elevator floor, hugging her knees, tears trickling down her cheeks. The elevator was now full of fingerprint dust and the collected fingerprints lay in a pile beside Lindsay's kit.

"Hey…" Hawkes called out, squatting beside her, "You okay?"

Tears filled her eyes but her voice was steady as Lindsay said, "It's frustrating, Hawkes… We saw his face! More than 20 people can identify him! We know exactly what he looks like and yet, we still can't catch him!"

Hawkes nodded, "I know…"

"And Danny's lying in the hospital! A machine is breathing for him! He's in a coma for God's sake, and we can't do anything?!"

Hawkes said, "I know… I'm as frustrated as you are. But we have to keep at it, ok? Sooner or later, we'll get the guy, and lock him up for good." He put a hand on Lindsay's shoulder, "If it's one of us who got shot instead, what would Danny be doing?"

Lindsay smiled shakily, remembering the time Stella was nearly killed by Frankie. Lindsay remembered Danny comforting her and telling her to stay focused on the case, as it was what Stella would have wanted them to do. "He'll never stop working until the shooter was caught…"

Hawkes smiled, "Exactly. And he might give the guy a hard ass kickin' once he caught him to make him sorry for ever messing with his friends…"

Lindsay chuckled. That was Danny alright.

Hawkes said, "He'll be strong for us, so we have to be strong for him, okay?"

Lindsay smiled and nodded. The two of them got back to work.

_2.00 pm_

Mac sat on the bench outside Danny's room with a Styrofoam cup of coffee in his hand. The shooter's smiling face was dancing back and forth in his brain, mocking him.

A soft but quick patter of footsteps cased Mac to look down the hall. He saw an average-height woman with short graying hair that had hints of blonde, (probably her original hair colour before age caught up with her) hazel eyes and friendly, warm features. With her was a tall man with longish black hair (also graying in some places), crystal blue eyes and long nose. Both of them wore an exhausted and worried expression on their faces.

Even though Mac had never met them before, their features were strikingly familiar to Mac. The woman brownish blonde hair was the exact same shade as Danny's. The man's blue eyes and bright, almost cocky features were just like Danny's. His hair and her eyes, however were just like Louie's.

Danny's parents.

Mac stood up and said, "Mr. and Mrs. Messer…"

Danny's mum cut him off, "Where is my son?"

Mac indicated towards Danny's room. Without a word, the couple went into the room. Mac stood at the doorway, giving them time. Danny's mum murmured, "Oh Danny…" over and over again as she stroked his hair. His father remained silent, but Mac could see the pain and sadness in his eyes.

Curtis Messer looked up at Mac and asked, "What the hell happened?"

Mac felt there was no use sugar coating anything, so he said, "This morning, a man came into the NYPD crime lab and shot Danny…"

"Why?" demanded Danny's father.

Mac sighed, "We don't know yet… but we are trying to catch the man who did this."

Danny's mum asked, "Is Danny the only one who got shot, or-?"

"The man specifically asked for Danny. When he came out, he shot him twice… one in the abdomen and the other in his neck. He ran for it. At that point, we were more concerned of taking care of Danny rather than chasing the guy…"

Lily Messer's eyes flooded with tears but they didn't fall. "Who would want to hurt Danny?"

"Lily… Danny's a cop… there are always risks…" said Danny's father gently, "Will he be ok?"

Mac said, "He's in a coma… but if he wakes up, the doctor said there will be no lasting damage…"

Danny's mother whispered shakily, "If…" She turned back to Danny and gripped his hand tightly.

"I'll get you a drink…" said Danny's father before walking out of the room. When he got back, he stopped outside the window and stared inside. Mac, who was standing at the doorway, came up to him.

Curtis Messer said slowly, "Detective Taylor, barely a year ago, my wife and I were in this very same hospital, looking at the exact same thing. Our son, lying on the bed with tubes connected all over his body…"

He shook his head, "Louie hung out with the wrong people, dropped out of school, got into a gang and he got beaten into a coma. I love him, but I could never forgive myself for not being a better father…for not making him a better person…" Tears welled up in his eyes, "Danny on the other hand… I've always been proud of him… he picked the right path despite everything… became a cop. Now he's in a coma too…" He glanced at Mac, "Good kid, bad kid… looks like it doesn't matter at all, huh?"

Mac couldn't find anything to say.

Danny's father said, "I've already buried one son… I cannot bury another. Do me a favour, Taylor… catch the man who did this, and tell me why he did it."

Mac nodded, "I will."

_TBC_

Aww... where did all my reviewers go? It's sad when that happens... pouts haha... kiddin'... hope you enjoyed this chapter and please leave a review. It makes me very happy!


	6. Chapter 5

_Chapter Five_

_8.45 pm_

Lindsay's eyes burned from the strain of staring at the computer screen for so long. She had been running prints through AFIS the whole afternoon. From her sitting place in the fingerprint lab right now, she could see the front desk which was now eerily empty, not to mention clean. A couple of hours ago, the front desk was occupied by a few people in white uniforms… crime scene clean-up. Lindsay found it quite hard to concentrate on scanning the fingerprints into the computer with all the noises outside. Now, however, the whole lab was silent as mostly everyone had left the building.

A plastic bag emitting a warm aroma was placed in front of her. Lindsay tore her eyes away from the front lobby and glanced up to see Hawkes looking down at her with a small smile.

"Spaghetti bolognaise from the corner café. The lasagna below that is mine…"

Lindsay muttered, "Thanks…" But she didn't touch the food.

Hawkes stayed silent for a moment, then said, "Go on. Eat it while it's warm, which I tell you, for take-out food, is a rarity…"

Lindsay smiled and said, not taking her eyes off the screen, "I'm not hungry… maybe later…"

Hawkes said, "Lindsay, you have to eat. You hardly ate lunch this afternoon…"

Lindsay continued typing on the keyboard, "I'm fine."

"Look, if we're gonna catch this guy, we're gonna need energy. We need to stay focused," Hawkes proceeded to taking out a container from the plastic bag, "And nothing says energy like a hot serving of Mama Vola's Spaghetti Delight." He opened the container and a delicious aroma filled the room. After inspecting the dish for a moment, Hawkes added, "Well, lukewarm serving, at the very least…"

An amused smile crept onto Lindsay's face. The smell and her hunger got the better of her so Lindsay finally gave in and grabbed a plastic fork from Hawkes.

The door opened and in walked Mac, looking not physically, but emotionally exhausted. "Something smells good… Where's mine?" he said with a weak smile.

Hawkes glanced at the now empty plastic bag and then at the container of lasagna in his hand, "Whoops…" he said.

Mac shook his head, "Relax, Hawkes. I grabbed a bite at the hospital…"

Lindsay immediately asked, "How's-?"

Mac's face turned grave as he shook his head, "No change. Flack's got a plain-clothes officer stationed there, just in case."

Hawkes asked, "Are his parents there?"

Mac nodded, "Took a ferry from Staten Island. They're probably getting a room at a hotel later." He looked towards the computer screen, "How's it going?"

Lindsay shook her head tiredly, "I found out nothing so far…Too many unidentifiable partials… the ones that could be identified, I've ruled out."

The door opened once again and in walked Stella, radiating an aura of exhaustion and irritation. The other three were quick to notice the change in her demeanor, seeing that Stella was like a pillar of strength the whole day, "IBIS is taking forever to cough up results," she growled, throwing herself down on the chair beside Lindsay, "Who knows? By the time it goes through every gun in the system and realizes that the bullets did not come from a single one of them, that shooter could be in Canada by then!"

Mac said patiently, "Stella…"

"And poor Danny will still be lying on the hospital bed, deep in a coma…"

"Stella…"

"…at the verge of dying! This is much less than he deserves!"

"Stella!" Mac said loudly and clearly.

Stella stopped rambling and shook her head, "We have no answers, Mac. We're just sitting ducks, not able to find the simplest thing to help Danny…"

"Stella, you're frustrated. We're all frustrated. I know things don't look all that bright right now. But you need to remember it's _still_ early. It's only been less than 12 hours since Danny was…shot," said Mac, hesitating before the last word, "There is still time. We will get this guy."

Stella took a deep breath and nodded, running her fingers through her curly brown hair, "I'm sorry, Mac… I guess I've been trying to remain objective… been trying to be strong throughout the whole day, I just couldn't hold it in anymore…"

Mac nodded, "You don't have to be strong all the time, Stella. We're a team. And we're gonna help each other get through this."

Lindsay waved her half-eaten spaghetti in front of Stella, "Take it… you haven't eaten the whole day either…"

Stella cracked a small smile and took a bite, "No spaghetti can ever beat Danny's…"

Hawkes grin and said, "Oh yeah… now that's pure Italian spaghetti!" he feigned a look of hunger and said, "See? Where's Danny when you want him most?"

Mac chimed in, "We'll just have to ask him to treat us to a big home-cooked authentic Italian dinner when he gets better…"

They all smiled, gladly embracing the momentary light-heartedness that replaced the tension from a couple of minutes ago.

The door opened for the fourth time and Flack popped his head in, "Hey, guys. I'm stopping by the hospital to see Danny… any of you wanna tag along?"

Hawkes said, "You guys go ahead. I'll finish up here."

"You sure?" asked Lindsay uncertainly.

"Go." Hawkes said with a smile, "Tell him I said 'hi' when he wakes up."

When given a puzzled look from the rest of them, Hawkes said with the impish smile they all knew so well, "Isn't it always like that on TV? They always wake up when their friends and family are all gathered around…"

* * *

_9.00 pm_

"_Un cuore caricato,  
Domande senza risposta,  
Agitazione dentro,  
Disperazione e sighs…_

_Chiederò al dio di trasmettere i suoi angeli,  
A sooth la vostra stanco anima,  
Resto in me, mio bambino,  
Non camminerete da solo…_

_Avanti ci era,  
Sole e pioggia,  
Tuttavia la gioia è là,  
Malgrado il dolore…_

_Nessun timore, mio bambino…  
Sarò sempre qui…_

_Ti amo, Danny…"_

Italian may not be Lily Messer's mother tongue, she was American after all, but ever since she married Curt, she hears Italian so often from him that she can speak it almost as fluently as English. Danny knew Italian very well too, seeing his father and grandfather were always speaking to him in Italian ever since Danny was a toddler. Louie was the same, but he didn't practice it much, unlike Danny.

Tonight, Lily Messer found herself sitting beside her son, holding his hand tightly and stroking his hair, whispering words of comfort in Italian to his son. Coma or not, she was sure Danny could hear her.

A hand rested gently on her shoulder, "Lily, it's getting late. We better go. Get some sleep."

Lily was reluctant to leave her remaining son. Curt said softly, "We'll be back first thing in the morning. There's an officer here. Danny's safe."

Finally, Lily got up and followed her husband out of the room.

* * *

_9.05 pm_

Officer Bill Leonard watched the couple walk out of Detective Messer's room. He gave them a small nod. Pity washed over him as he watched them leave. He glanced into Detective Messer's room. He could see the translucent tube running from his mouth to the machine by the side. He could see the slightly blood-stained bandage on his neck.

Officer Leonard shivered a little. Only a year out of the academy, he was well aware of the dangers and risks from being part of the NYPD though he had not much experience in it. He wondered what it'll be like, taking a bullet to the chest, lying in the hospital bed at the edge of death while the media praised his bravery. Officer Leonard hoped he'll never have to face that day anytime soon.

Detective Messer's job wasn't the same as his. Officer Leonard was out there facing dangers all day while Messer worked in the safety of the lab. If Messer could get shot even then… Officer Leonard shuddered at the thought.

Suddenly thirsty, Officer Leonard decided to go get a drink. He was gonna be here the whole night anyway. It'll only take a few minutes to get a drink and back… nothing will happen. With that thought, Officer Leonard left.

* * *

_9.06 pm_

Howard Jones stood outside Danny Messer's room, amazed by what he was seeing. Howard Jones found it hard to believe Danny Messer was in this room, rather than the morgue after being shot twice…

_He's alive…_

_Barely…_

_But for how much longer?_

* * *

_9.08 pm_

Flack walked down the corridor with Mac, Stella and Lindsay behind him. As soon as they turned into the corridor leading to Danny's room, Flack immediately felt like something was off.

"Where's the officer?" asked Mac quietly.

Flack frowned, "I dunno… he's supposed to be here…"

They reached Danny's room. The first thing they saw was a tall, dark silhouette standing beside Danny's bed, their back to them.

He was shorter than Danny's dad, taller than Officer Leonard, whom Flack assigned guard duty to.

Things clicked into place and Flack yanked out his gun and dashed for the door, "HEY!"

The figure turned around. The room was way too dark to see his facial features but Mac immediately recognized the shape of the man who shot Danny 11 hours ago.

"YOU!" Mac yelled, yanking his gun out as well, "SUSPECT ON LOCATION!"

Things happened way too quickly. The man ran into Flack, shoving him into Mac, causing them both to tumble backwards.

They scrambled up quickly but the suspect had already raced out the door. Mac yelled to the two girls, "Stay! Check on Danny!"

He and Flack then dashed out of the room and raced down the corridor.

"I don't see him…" Flack muttered.

"Keep going." Mac replied.

They pushed past astonished nurses and ran all the way to the hospital entrance. The suspect was nowhere to be seen.

"DAMN!" cursed Flack angrily, pulling out his cell phone and yelling instructions to the people on the other end of the line, "Check everywhere! Suspect may still be in the area!"

He slammed his phone shut and followed Mac back to Danny's room.

Stella and Lindsay were waiting anxiously inside. Mac shook his head. Lindsay said, "He's fine…"

Mac looked over at Danny, who was still lying down, pale and unchanged. He heaved a sigh of relief that the man did not get a chance to harm Danny.

Flack, meanwhile, had a bone to pick with the officer on duty. His angry voice could be heard loud and clear from Danny's room.

"WHERE THE HELL WERE YOU?!" Flack yelled, his face red with fury.

Officer Leonard blubbered, "I went to get a d-drink…"

"DETECTIVE MESSER HAD BEEN SHOT BY A SUSPECT WHO IS STILL AT LARGE! YOU DO NOT LEAVE HIM UNGUARDED FOR EVEN ONE SECOND, YOU UNDERSTAND? NOT EVEN IF YOUR MOTHER WAS CALLING YOU! NOT EVEN IF THIS HOSPITAL HAD A BOMB THAT WAS GOING TO GO OFF! YOU DO NOT TAKE YOUR EYES OFF HIM!!" Flack bellowed.

"I-I'm s-sorry…" muttered Officer Leonard.

"You could have killed him! You could have just as well put a bullet into Detective Messer's head! Why didn't you, huh? Makes it a whole lot easier for you!" growled Flack.

"I'm s-sorry…"

"Just remember, all our actions have consequences. And your actions tonight may have gotten him killed. Keep that in mind!" said Flack before storming back into Danny's room.

Stella was talking on the phone. When she got off, she was smiling, "That was Adam. We've got a lead."

TBC

Sorry for the long 'hiatus'... hope I made it up to you with this chapter... Please review!

Oh, and I apologize to all Italians if I really messed up all that Danny's mum was saying. I don't know a word of Italian, but I tried my best. Hope it's ok. Forgive me if it's not. In fact, maybe you could tell me what sentences I've messed up, then I can fix them. ;-D


	7. Chapter 6

Whoops... if this story were to be taken in literal time, Danny would be in a coma for over a month now. Hehe... my apologies. I've been busy with my mid-term exams and I couldn't get my muse working. Here's the new chapter.

_Chapter Six_

Wednesday, 8.08 am   
Flack got out of the car and slammed the door shut. On the passenger side, Stella did the same thing. They were outside the state jail, hoping they were chasing the right lead. 

Stella cast a sideways glance at Flack. Dark shadows around his eyes gave his normally energetic face an uncharacteristically tired look. Like her, the night's rest did not do him any good. 

Instead of getting a much needed night's sleep, Stella jolted awake in hourly intervals to the sound of gun shots and flashes of Danny falling to the floor, his empty sapphire eyes staring up at her, seeing nothing. Stella would then get up to the kitchen, gulp down some water and climb back into bed, reassuring herself that Danny was still alive. She closes her eyes and the moment she lets her guard down, the images come back and she has to get up again.

But Stella remained strong on the outside, seeing that she's the one of the older, more experienced members of the team. Or maybe it was just her nature, because of how she grew up, having no parents or siblings to be strong for her so she learnt to be strong for herself. Inside however, she felt that she will crumble any moment with the fear of losing Danny, the little brother she never had. 

"Tell me again, why are we here?" Flack asked. Last night, Stella had just told him to meet her at the jail without giving much detail as to why.

"IBIS finally got a hit off the bullets that hit Danny." Stella answered as they made their way to the front door.

Flack raised an eyebrow, "You mean the same gun was used in another crime before?"

"Yep, a double homicide back in 2004. Max Jones was sentenced to life, no parole for shooting his two best friends over a business partnership that had gone bad. Convicted in 2005, he's been in jail since. Striations from the two bullets from Danny matched the bullets that were used to kill the two men. The gun was never recovered."

Flack nodded, "So that 50-year-old dude somehow managed to get the gun and shot Danny with it…"

Stella said, "Here's the kicker… Danny worked that case."

Flack's eyes widened, fully awake now.

"He worked solo on that case. I reviewed his notes and the evidence this morning. It was very much an air-tight case, even without the murder weapon. Max Jones' prints were all over the crime scene, partnership documents saying that Max Jones got dropped by his pals, costing him a fortune on investments. Plus, a full confession from Jones himself. Danny testified in court against him. Jones was convicted, been in jail ever since."

"Woah… it's like Shane Casey all over again." Flack muttered, referring to the revenge seeking Greek mythology killer they faced a few months earlier.

"Right, that's what I'm thinking. Max Jones might have gotten that man to shoot Danny for revenge."

Flack nodded, "Something tells me we need to give ol' Max a good talking to…"

Stella smiled slightly, "You got that right."

* * *

_9.05 am_

Not surprisingly, getting Max Jones out of his cell and into the mini interrogation room in the jail took nearly an hour. Flack and Stella signed paper after paper and explained their intentions to what seemed like every officer in the building and waited in the interrogation room for a full 15 minutes before a tall, dark-haired, unshaven man entered the room, hand-cuffed and led by one of the officers.

As the officer undid his hand-cuffs, Max Jones asked smoothly, "So, what does New York's boys…" He cast a glance at Stella and added, "… and girls in blue want with me?"

"Information," Stella said, opening the police file she had with her.

Max shrugged, "Can't imagine what kind of information you want from me, but hey, I got nothing better to do, so ask away."

Stella took out a picture of the man who shot Danny. Mac had met up with a sketch artist yesterday and given a full description. "Do you know this man?"

Flack had been on the force long enough to read and interpret facial expressions. And boy, Max Jones' face had 'I-know-this-guy-but-should-I-say-so?' all over it.

Flack's fingers tapped the surface of the worn metal table softly, waiting for Max Jones' response. _C'mon… come up with some B.S so I can shove you against the wall…_ His emotions were already at its' peak, and Flack didn't know how much longer he could keep his anger in control. _Someone's gonna pay for what happened to Danny. I'll make sure of it…_

"Yeah, I know him… he's my dad." Max Jones answered, "Why?" he asked, wide-eyed, when he saw Stella and Flack's surprised expressions, "Did something happen to him?"

Flack didn't answer his question, "Your dad… he got a name?"  
"Howard… Howard Jones. Why?"

Stella said, "We have reason to believe your father was involved in the shooting of a NYPD officer."

Max paused for a moment, then let out a laugh, "Him? Are you kidding me?"

Flack said, "He was using your old gun, Max, nothing funny about that."

Max's smile slid off his face and he stuttered, "I-I haven't seen him in years. I d-don't know how he got- got hold of it…"

Stella said, "The gun you mean? We never recovered it when we arrested you. Where was it?"

Max remained silent. 

Flack leaned towards him, "Look, pal. The officer your old man shot? He was the CSI working your case, alright? He gave the testimony that helped you get convicted. That, gives you motive, my friend. The gun was yours and your dad used it… that makes you accessory to the crime. If you don't want this life sentence to be cut short into the death penalty, you best start talking, buddy."

Max held out his palms, "Wait… slow down… my dad shot that detective dude? The one with the glasses? Um… Detective Besser… or something, right?"

"It's Messer, and yes. What happened, Max? You got mad at him for sending you off to prison, so you got daddy dearest to shoot him for you?" 

"No! No! I didn't ask him to do anything! I told you, I haven't seen him in ages!" Max leaned back into his seat with a deep sigh, "Look, I won't lie to you, I did shoot my friends. They cut me out of the deal when I put so much effort into it. I lost a fortune. I was mad, I shot them. I don't deny that. But, I DON'T hold a grudge against Messer, ok? You think I wanna make things worse for myself? I already got a life sentence! What is there to be gained by killing the cop?"

Stella said, "Well, if that's so, that means your dad did this on his own. Where did he get the gun?"

Max stayed quiet for a long time. But he faltered under Flack and Stella's glares, "Fine… after the shooting, I went to my dad. I gave him the gun. I told him to help me out, to keep it safe. We haven't had contact for years before that, so I figured no one will think the gun was with him… how was I to know he'll go shooting people with it?"

Flack and Stella exchanged glances. Stella shut the file and muttered, "We're done here."

As they got up to leave, Max Jones called out, "Wait… so this means my dad was willing to kill a guy, for me?"

Flack whirled around and got so close to Max that he could see every bit of scruff on his face, "Hey. This isn't about _you_. This is about the cop your dad shot. Detective Messer is in a coma now thanks to your father. You're not the only one in the world who has a father, ok? Detective Messer has a father too. And a mother. If he dies, they will wonder why their son was killed for doing his job, for helping remove a piece of scum like you off the streets. Keep that in mind."

With that, Flack turned back to Stella and they walked back to the car. Stella felt a grim satisfaction. They were that much closer to finding the shooter. Not bad for 24 hours…

TBC


	8. Chapter 7

Yay! It only took me a month to update this time! cheers ... Ok, ok... not funny... ;-p  
Enjoy!

_Chapter Seven_

_Wednesday, 9.30 a.m_

Two NYPD police cars screeched to a halt outside a run down old apartment in downtown Manhattan. Mac Taylor climbed out of one of them, his face set in determination so strong that nobody could guess that he hadn't had a wink of sleep the last night.

No sooner had he gotten to the front steps leading upstairs, Flack's car pulled up and out came Stella and Flack himself. They had driven straight from the jail to this apartment, contacting Mac on the way to meet them here.

No words were exchanged between them. They knew exactly what to do. Countless arrests have been made by the three of them before, plenty of them were as dangerous, if not more than the arrest they were about to make.

Mac led the way up the stairs, with Flack and Stella right behind him and the three uniformed officers bringing up the rear. At the first floor, a short middle-aged unshaven man in a bathrobe yelled at them from his open apartment door, "What the hell do you think you're doing?!"

Mac stopped short and said to the man curtly, "NYPD. Are you the landlord?"

The short man nodded, "Damn right I am! And you coppers have no right to storm in like that! These are my tenants and they deserve privacy!" He was angry but did not look the least bit threatening, seeing that the bathrobe he was clad it was covered with yellow cartoon ducks all over it.

"One of your tenants has shot a detective. I think that is enough to justify me and my team 'storming in' like this. Apartment 3B," replied Mac.

The man did nothing but merely stared at Mac. Mac stared back, and so did Flack and Stella.

After a pause, the landlord's gaze faltered and he stood aside, "3rd floor, to the right."

Mac nodded, "Thank you."

Outside apartment 3B, it was deathly quiet. Mac stood to one side of the door and Flack took the other. Mac pulled out his gun from its holster and the others did the same.

Flack rapped on the door twice, "Howard Jones! NYPD! Open the door!"

Silence…

Flack banged on the door again, "Howard Jones! Open up, now!"

They heard nothing more than each others' deep breathing and the heavy thumping of their own hearts.

Flack exchanged nods with Mac, curt cop sign language for 'Cover me… I'm gonna smash this door into oblivion…'

They all held their guns steady as Flack threw his right shoulder into the door. Being as old and shabby as the rest of the apartment building, the door snapped off its hinges immediately.

Flack, Mac, Stella and the other officers quickly fanned out into the apartment, guns held at the ready. Mac headed towards the closed room furthest away from the front door. He listened for the slightest noise but couldn't pick up anything. The others were checking the other rooms, shouting "Clear!" every time they cleared a room.

Mac swung open the door and he saw a man with his back facing him. Even from behind, Mac knew this was the man they were looking for. The man slowly turned around, the morning sunlight that entered through the window hit his face, illuminating his graying hair and lined face. In his right hand, was a gun. The one that was used by Max Jones to kill his friends, the one that was used to shoot Danny.

Mac aimed his gun directly at the man's chest. Never before had he been so tempted to just shoot the man right there and then, instead of taking him into custody. "Put the gun down…"

The man smiled and bent slowly, placing the gun on the floor and sliding it over to Mac's feet. He straightened up again, bare hands raised in surrender. Slightly taken aback, Mac said, "Howard Jones, you are under arrest."

Half-expecting Jones to attack him at any moment, Mac walked slowly over to him and securely hand-cuffed his hands behind his back.

Howard Jones remained silent. "Anything you wanna say?" Mac asked.

Howard Jones spoke in a voice barely above a whisper, "Everything happens for a reason…"

* * *

_3.24 pm_

Mac placed a crime scene photo in front of Howard Jones. It showed a close-up of two bullets next to each other, their striations matching perfectly. Howard Jones looked down at the photo with a small, almost amused smile. He hadn't said a word the entire morning.

Mac pointed at the picture, "This is the bullet we test-fired from the gun your son gave you three years ago. It matches perfectly with the bullets recovered from Detective Danny Messer."

Mac placed another picture, this time, of the gun. The handle had been dusted for fingerprints. "The finger prints on the gun, match you."

Mac stared at Howard Jones straight in the eye and said, "Not to mention, over 10 witnesses saw you shoot Detective Messer, and leave the building. Including me."

Howard Jones merely sat there, with that increasingly annoying smirk on his face. "We have everything we need to put you away for a long time for shooting a cop. Why don't you start helping yourself by telling your side of the story?"

Howard Jones looked away.

"You can make things a lot easier for yourself if you co-operate. Why did you shoot Detective Messer? Was it revenge for testifying against your son?"

Nothing.

Mac resisted the urge to reach out and punch him, just to see if he was capable of making a sound at all.

"May I remind you, Mr. Jones, that you denied request for a lawyer. I can't make you talk if you don't want to. But it'll be a lot better for you if you did. Why did you shoot Danny?"

No sound.

"Do you deny walking into the crime lab, yesterday morning, and shooting Danny Messer?"

This time, he shook his head.

Mac asked, "So, you admit you shot him?"

Finally, he opened his mouth and said all of one syllable. "Yes."

"Why?"

No answer again.

There was nothing more that Mac could do. He nodded at the officer by the door, who went up to Jones and took him out of the interrogation room.

But at the door, Howard Jones stooped and looked back at Mac.

Mac looked back at him expectantly.

Howard Jones had stopped smiling for the first time in along while. Softly, even sadly, he asked, "How's the kid? Messer…"

Mac took awhile to answer. "I don't know."

Howard Jones nodded slowly, a sad expression on his face, and let the officer steer him out of the room.

Mac gathered up the photos and went outside as well. The door to the room directly next door opened and out walked Stella, Flack, Lindsay and Hawkes. They had been watching the one-sided interrogation through the one way mirror.

Lindsay spoke first, "So that's it? He's not going to say a word?"

Mac shrugged.

Hawkes piped up, "Despite the fact that it might make a difference in his prison sentence when his case is put in front of the jury?"

Mac looked down the corridor, but not really seeing anything, "When I arrested him, he said, 'Everything happens for a reason', Maybe he doesn't care what happens to him. Maybe he'd done what he meant to do, and doesn't care about anything else..."

Mac looked back at them, "We caught him, and he's not getting away. We're done. Good job, everyone."

* * *

_11.05 pm_

Mac Taylor entered Danny's room. It was pitch black except for the glow of the heart monitor and a dim orange light from the table lamp.

Mac took an arm chair that stood by the wall, pulled it close to Danny's bed and sat down.

Danny had been unconscious for nearly 40 hours. The monitor by the side showed that his heart was beating at a slow, steady speed. The ventilator pushing oxygen into his lungs let out gasps of air at regular intervals. Danny's face was still pale; his goatee had grown a little scruffier.

Mac wondered if Howard Jones really regretted shooting Danny. Whether he had really wanted to. Was that 'How is he?' question a mere throwaway question of an unsteady mind, or did he really care how Danny was?

Mac took Danny's hand in his own, just as he did with Flack a year ago after the bombings.

"Danny… can you hear me?" Mac muttered softly, "We got him…"

Mac squeezed Danny's cold hand in his own, "Danny… can you hear me? We caught the man who shot you. His name is Howard Jones. He's going to go away for a long time. You better wake up soon. Your mum and dad are waiting. We're all waiting…"

_Beep... beep… beep…_

The room was nicely cool. Mac hadn't slept in over 36 hours. The slightly cushioned arm chair was soft and comfortable.

The monotonous beeps of the heart monitor were making him drowsy.

_Beep… beep… beep…_

Without realizing it, Mac leaned back in the chair and drifted off to sleep.

TBC

I don't really have a set timeline for this... somewhere in Season Three, I guess, but before the finale (which rocks, by the way. I can't believe I have to wait til' September to watch the full episode...) and before all that M&Ms relationship developments (who else laughs everytime you see a pool table? -guilty-) . Since I'm such a slow updater, the episodes get very ahead of me..

Til' next chapter! Review! MUAKS!


	9. Chapter 8

_Chapter Eight_

_Thursday, 6.18 am_

Mac slept straight through the night in Danny's ward, never waking up once. Images of Howard Jones, Danny, Peyton, even Reid and Claire flitted in and out of his dreams.

Mac felt split in between two worlds. He could see Claire's beautiful face in front of him, so much like Reid's. At the same time, he could hear the beeping of the heart monitor and the regular gasps of air from the ventilator. These sounds felt quite far away. Mac registered dimly that he was slowly waking up but he kept his eyes shut tight. The night's sleep helped a bit but he still felt weight-of-the-world weary.

_Beep… beep… beep…_

"_Cough."_

_Beep… beep… beep…_

"_Cough… cough…"_

Mac felt even more awake now. The coughing he just heard definitely was not from his dream. He opened his eyes.

"_Cough…"_

Mac turned to gaze at Danny and his heart leapt.

"Danny..."

Danny's eyes opened, but just a bit. He continued to cough, almost choking. Mac knew why. Danny was breathing on his own now and no longer needed the ventilator.

"Danny. Just hold on, ok? I'm gonna get a doctor." Mac rested a reassuring hand quickly on his shoulder and rushed out of the room towards the nurses' station. Mac tried hard not to smile too widely as he practically shouted gleefully to the nurse at the desk.

She had quickly notified a doctor, who thankfully was here despite the early hour. Mac followed him back into Danny's room, all the while thinking with utmost relief… _He's ok… he's going to be just fine…_

The doctor removed the tube of the ventilator from Danny's throat and gave him a quick check-up, "You're going to be alright, Detective Messer. We'll have you up in no time." Then, bestowing Mac a smile, he went out of the room.

Mac went up to Danny and said, "Feeling ok?"

Danny's eyes remained less than cooperative to stay open, though it didn't really make a difference, seeing that he couldn't see much without his glasses. He opened them and closed them again, replying with his voice a little hoarse and barely above a whisper, "I've had better days… but I'm… ok…"

Mac smiled, "I'll let the others know."

Danny nodded. Being still pumped with pain killers, he drifted off to sleep. Mac pulled out his cell phone and began dialing. It was still early but Mac was sure none of his team would be too annoyed with being woken up for this.

* * *

_10.20 am_

_Sirens blaring… gun shots… an older man with graying hair stared down at him with a mocking smile… pain in his neck, down his side… a hand holding his… a voice he knew so well… 'Chiederò al dio di trasmettere i suoi angeli, a sooth la vostra stanco anima…'_

Danny opened his eyes. Through blurred vision, he could make out the white ceiling above him, lit with sun light streaming in the window.

Though his neck and abdomen were throbbing every so often, Danny felt quite good. Wide awake, definitely, seeing that he was unconscious for the better part of the past three days of his life.

He reached out his right arm towards the side table and his wounds stung, despite the fact Danny was quite heavily dosed with morphine. His hand closed onto his glasses and he put them on.

For a moment, he just lay there, staring at the ceiling. _I'm alive…_

Days before, he was also staring at a ceiling. The ceiling of the crime lab to be exact, wondering numbly whether he'll survive those gun shots. He did. Was he surprised? Thankful? Amazed? None of the above? He didn't really know…

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw movement. He turned his head slowly, so as to avoid further provocation of his neck wound. Stella entered the room, closely followed by Mac, Lindsay, Hawkes and Flack.

Stella set down the large bouquet of flowers that she was holding onto the side table and said, "Hey, survivor…"

She pulled him into a gentle hug and a kiss on the cheek. So did Lindsay. Hawkes and Flack gave him tight handshakes while Mac stood in the corner, smiling. Danny could sense the relief emitting from each and every one of them.

Hawkes chirped in amusedly, "Here's Superman. Not even two bullets can stop him!"

"How long have I been out anyway? What's happened?" Danny asked. Mac hadn't talked to him about the details that morning.

Stella spoke up first, "About 3 days. We caught the guy just yesterday…"

She exchanged glances with Mac who nodded. Stella continued, "His name is Howard Jones. Ring any bells?"

Danny thought for a moment, "Don't think so…"

"He's son was convicted for double homicide thanks to your testimony three years ago."

"So he hunted me down in revenge? Great guy." Danny said in an attempt at humour although the mood in the room turned slightly tensed as his team mates stood by, wondering how Danny was going to react to hearing about his shooter.

Mac said quietly, "He used the gun his son used during the crime back in '04…"

Danny nodded slowly, taking that in. He appreciated a lot that they were not sugar-coating anything and telling him the facts there and then.

Not wanting to think about this just yet, Danny cast around for a different subject, "Aren't you guys supposed to be at work?"

"We're actually on our way to some crime scenes, actually," Lindsay replied.

"Yeah, but we decided a quick detour will be fine," grinned Flack, "Just to piss off Hillbourne and the other big guys."

There was a tap on the door and in walked Danny's parents. "Oh, Danny!" his mother exclaimed joyfully, tears in her eyes.

Mac had called them, told them about Danny waking up, about arresting his shooter. Curtis Messer looked at Mac, his blue eyes so much like Danny's. He gave him a small nod, which Mac understood immediately. _Thank you._

"We'll better go now." Mac said.

They nodded. Stella said, "We'll come back later, Danny."

"Thanks, guys." Danny said. He couldn't find the right words to tell them how much it meant to him to see them there. He hoped these two words were enough.

They all smiled. They understood.

TBC


	10. Epilogue

Epilogue

_Wednesday, 6.30 am_

Danny had spent three days in the hospital after waking up and an additional two days at home. Mac had suggested that Danny stayed home for a few more days but immediately retracted his suggestion when Danny looked on the verge of starting a full scale riot.

There wasn't much to look forward to, going back to work… Danny still had to give his part of the story on the shooting, to tie up loose ends. Mac had insisted that Danny work behind the desk for a couple of days. Danny wasn't looking forward to seeing the place he had been shot down. All the same, Danny preferred going back to work, where he could distract himself from thoughts he didn't want.

The past couple of days, he had been trying all things possible to keep himself occupied. He read books, watched TV, listen his CDs, played pool solo. But these were all relaxing things, and whenever his mind relaxed, he'll start hearing the gun shots, feeling the pain, seeing Howard Jones' face again.

He desperately needed to get back to work, to lose himself in the puzzles behind the crimes. Anything but the crime that was done to him.

Before slipping on his tank top and shirt, however, Danny glanced at his reflection in the mirror. There, on the right side of his stomach, was a long scar extending up to his ribs.

On his neck, was the other scar, longish and jagged, also on the right, starting from the middle of his neck, down to his collar bone.

Although they were slowly getting better, his bullet wounds still cried out in pain every so often… And he was quite sure the scars will fade, but will never completely disappear. They will remain a painful reminder of the life he had nearly lost.

"_You were very lucky, Detective Messer. Very few would have survived this…"_

The doctor's voice rang in his ears. Lucky? Danny didn't feel very lucky. He couldn't understand why. He was happy to be alive, sure, but what is this strange, unpleasant feeling inside him? He couldn't find any words to describe it.

He put on his tank top, followed by the maroon button-up shirt he wore to work quite often. He frowned slightly at his own reflection, trying to adjust the collar to hide the scar on his neck, but it remained clearly visible.

Giving up, he grabbed his bag and jacket and went out.

* * *

_7.05 am_

The elevator door opened and Danny stepped out, ignoring the sharp twinge that attacked his side. He walked over to the desk and signed in. Every person who passed him did something or other to indicate they knew everything that happened.

Those who knew him well enough stopped to say various versions of, "Glad you're back, Messer." Those who didn't made it a point to stare at him, or give him a small smile or nod. Danny could only nod back half-heartedly in response.

As he walked across the corridor towards the office he shared with the rest of his team, Danny tried his hardest to keep his eyes straight ahead and not look down at the shiny tiled floor where he lay, bleeding, a week ago. He didn't bother looking into Mac's office, in case his boss was there. He didn't want Mac to talk to him, to ask him how he was, whether he wants a few days off.

As a matter of fact, he suddenly felt that he did not want to talk to anyone. He didn't want to be asked how he was, didn't want people's sympathies. What do they know? They weren't the ones who got shot in the very building that they felt the safest in, other than their houses. They weren't the ones that were lying on the cold floor, bleeding out…

Danny suddenly felt angry. He then felt angrier that he was angry. It was unreasonable… immature… silly. And yet, he couldn't help but wish he was invisible, or at least he wished people would stop staring at him a second longer than necessary.

He walked into the office and there sat Stella, typing something in her computer. She looked up the moment she saw him and said, "Hey, stranger."

Danny tried his best to sound cheerful, "Hey." He saw Stella's eyes immediately look towards his scar.

He sat down at his desk, noticing the paperwork that got piled on in the past week. Now that he was confined to the lab, there was little else to do. He grabbed a file randomly and opened it while saying, "You got a case?"

Stella nodded, "Got through the crime scene yesterday, processing evidence now… seeing what we'll find."

Danny nodded back. After a moment, he could feel Stella's eyes still on him. Danny felt his temper rising to the surface again. He looked up at her. He was expected her to ask him, "Are you sure you're ok, Danny?" in a scrutinizing tone, but instead, she smiled gently, "You feel like crap, don't you?"

Taken by surprise, Danny paused. Then he nodded.

"Care to share?" Stella asked.

Danny hesitated, for some reason, he felt that he could open up to Stella, more than anybody else around. Stella would understand. After all, hadn't she been through similar rough experiences?

"I don't know, Stel… I should be grateful. I should be really glad that I'm alive, but… I feel anything but happy."

Stella didn't say anything. She merely looked back at him, all ears. She could see that this Danny was different from the one she once knew. The court jester of the crime lab had been replaced by this sullen guy. The blue eyes that once shone in excitement were now dark and downcast.

"We've worked here for quite a while. We've seen so many cases, so many deaths. Mothers had to deal with their kids die of a single stab wound, husbands lose their wives over one gun shot wound, sibling and friends lose one another due to one blow to the head…"

Danny looked away, "So… I've been shot. Not once, but twice. And I'm still alive. I guess I'm wondering why. I could have easily died as well…"

Stella replied after a short while, "It wasn't your time to go, Danny. You still have years ahead of you, and that old guy wasn't going to take it away from you, just like that."

"Yeah… him… what's going to happen to him, anyway?"

"That depends on the judge and jury…"

"Yeah," Danny looked up, "But I have a say, right? What if I don't press charges?"

Stella looked into his blue eyes, "You don't want to press charges?"

Danny brushed that off, "I'm just saying… he's an old guy… what's he gonna do in jail? He tried to kill me for his son,"

"And that justifies his crime?"

Danny merely shrugged his signature shoulder and mouth shrug. "Nevermind him shooting me... it's just that… how great it would be, huh, if the people that died in the hands of somebody else, didn't die so easily. If only there were more that survived like me." He smiled a little and Stella could see a bit of the old Danny again, "I mean, ok, we might be out of business but… families wouldn't broken up… friends… brothers…" His voice trailed away. Stella knew he was thinking about Louie.

Stella looked at him, seeing a whole new side of Danny she never saw before. The smart-mouthed, sometimes arrogant, good humoured young boy was growing up into an intelligent man. Another Mac Taylor in the making, Stella thought with an amused smile.

"Well, you've been given this second chance, Danny. Like you said, not many people have that chance. Best you can do is appreciate it, and use the very best you can," said Stella.

Danny nodded, "Thanks, Stel." He felt a little better.

* * *

_5.15 pm_

A guard rapped on Howard Jones' cell, "Get up."

Howard Jones opened his eyes and slowly got up from the uncomfortable bed, "What?"

"Let's go," he said, opening the cell door.

When Howard got out, he met with his lawyer, a young sprout thrown to him from the Public Defendant's Office. "Charges have been dropped. You're free."

Howard Jones was surprised beyond belief, "What?"

"Your charges of assault against an NYPD officer have been dropped. The detective in question did not want to press charges. You're free," the man said steadily, although he did look a bit annoyed of being denied a case to work on.

Howard was still in a state of shock as he signed the release form for his personal items and even until he stepped out into the sun.

As he walked slowly out the door, still unsure why this is happening, he caught sight of a young man standing to the side of the door. He had short cropped dark blond, almost brown hair, glasses that accented the bright blue eyes behind them and a goatee. The exact same face he had been hunting until the last week. The only thing that that changed was that he now had a scar running from the right side of his neck, disappearing behind his jacket collar.

Howard Jones went up to him, "Why?"

Danny Messer replied, "I was going to ask the same question. Why did you shoot me?"

Howard remained silent.

"I merely testified against your son, who took the lives of his two friends."

"Why didn't you press charges?"

Danny looked away towards the parking lot, "I don't think you meant to kill me. Sure, you were angry, you wanted revenge. But," he looked back at his shooter, "… you shot me because you think I put your son in jail. Your son put himself in jail. And you shot me, just like he shot his two friends. Don't you think that makes you as bad as him?"

"Your son's actions not only affected the families of his two victims. It affected you too. And in turn, if I died, it would have affected my mum and dad… my friends. It'll never end, would it?" Danny said steadily.

"That doesn't answer my question."

Danny smiled, "That's because I don't really have an answer."

With that, he turned and walked away, subconsciously putting a hand to the scar on his neck on the way.

Howard Jones merely stood there, watching the young cop leave.

The sun was setting. Howard Jones started walking. Time to go back home. Maybe he'll stop by the bar for a beer on the way.

END

Those who have been reading this story from start til end, thanks for sticking around! Please take the time to leave a review, it'll mean a lot to me.  
Til' next time, when my muse attacks me with fresh Danny Messer inspiration again.


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